


Gwilym Lee x Reader x Joe Mazzello - Rydych Chi, Fi, a'r Dyn Americanaidd yn Gwneud Tri

by gingersnaptaff



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Gwilym is an idiot, I'm back again with the welsh titles, Joe just wants to pet cats, Multi, So this was supposed to be a Mafia AU but I don't really know what it is anymore, the long ass title no one asked for, the reader is so done with her boyfriends shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersnaptaff/pseuds/gingersnaptaff
Summary: You're kidnapped one night by a handsome auburn-haired stranger one dark and stormy night after your boyfriend goes missing...





	Gwilym Lee x Reader x Joe Mazzello - Rydych Chi, Fi, a'r Dyn Americanaidd yn Gwneud Tri

You do not like this. You really do not like this. It’s half twelve at night and Gwilym should be home by now. The clock ticks on the wall, the last twenty minutes of the hour passing with a strange slowness. You sigh, the kitchen chair creaking in protest as you anxiously cross and uncross your legs, sipping at your drink. The liquid touches your lips and you grimace.

‘ _Lukewarm_ ,’ is all you can think, scowling in distaste, wanting to make another cup. Your body, however, does not respond. You’re blinking heavily in an effort to stay awake, not even daring to look at the clock adorning the wall, the shadow of its pendulum ominous in the low light. It’s stormy outside, the occasional clap of thunder echoing in the night, the flashes of lightening that accompany it illuminate the room for brief moments, like camera flashes. If this were a horror movie then you’re sure that you’d be the killer’s next victim.

You tighten the baggy jumper that you’re wearing around yourself a little more, the sleeves enveloping your hands, hiding them from view. It’s an old one of Gwilym’s and it still smells like him: citrus and tea. It’s an attempt to stop the morbid thoughts in your head from consuming you and you’re shivering as a thought enters your head, shaking the chair beneath you violently. Has the room always looked this foreboding?

You’re struck that there is draft coming in suddenly, a cold snap of air enters the doorway, and you shiver even more. Your breath is coming out in mist and you feel like you might die. The waiting is killing you.

_“Hey, if someone did kill me then at least Gwil wouldn’t have to insist that he gets more cover than me every single night.’_

It’s a morbid thought more than a funny one really but you can’t help but laugh. It’s a hollow huff of air more than anything else and your palms are clammy with cooling sweat. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and you gulp _. ‘Is someone watching me?_ ’

You stand up, edging towards the door, thanking God that Gwilym insisted on hiding his golf clubs beside the kitchen door. You select the heaviest looking club and edge towards the doorway, your feet slapping against the tiles. You’re aware that this could just be a figment of your imagination after all you have not moved from your place for over three hours and your tired brain might be overreacting a little.

“Gwil, is that you?” you whisper, too afraid to yell, feet carrying you towards the threshold of the front door. ‘ _Please, for all that’s holy, let it be him. I don’t need this shit at 12:53 at night.’_

The thunder booms again, the lightening illuminating the hallway with a creepy wash of white. Your skin crawls in fear, goose-bumps crisping on your skin. The door is open, rain is wetting the wooden floor of the entryway and you think, for a moment, that Gwilym has forgotten to say hello. He does that often, creeping in when you’ve left the door open for him and climbing into bed with you. The lightning flashes again and you shriek, holding the golf club tightly in your arms as you see the figure in front of you clearly illuminated for the first time.

He’s shorter than Gwilym, his hair a shade of auburn, swept back and dripping with rain, and he’s wearing a leather jacket and a psychotic smirk. His brown eyes are crazed and he bares his teeth in a shark’s smile as though he wants to devour you whole.

“You’re prettier than I thought you would be.” He says casually. He has entered the house now, the sound of his steps on the floor taunting you.

“What do you mean by that?” you say, holding the club out like a bat, trying to impede his path towards you, “Don’t – don’t come any closer.”

He chuckles, “Y’know your boyfriend said you had spirit but I didn’t think it meant you’d be willing to get yourself killed.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, anger overwhelming every other fight or flight response. “What do you know about Gwil?”

“A lot more than you, I’d imagine.” He says, backing you up to the banister of the stairs. The wood is cool against your back, his eyes are devoid of light, and he leers at you. “For example do you know where he goes most nights?”

“Goes – what? What do you mean by that? Who the fuck’re you anyway? Why are you here?”

“I’ve been sent to collect you.” He murmurs calmly, grabbing your hand so suddenly that you don’t have time to deflect it with the golf club. His grip is iron and you have to fight against the urge to scream. There are tears in your eyes as he crushes your fingers making the club fall from your hand.

“Stop! Please! I don’t know anything – I don’t know what you want!”

“You, of course,” He says simply, drawing out a syringe from his pocket.

You feel the prick of a needle in your wrist and your vision suddenly becomes black.

* * *

The smell of coffee is the first thing that greets you. Your head is throbbing. Your vision blurs for a moment and you groan at the too bright sunlight that hits your eyes, obscuring your vision. It’s cold. There is a dirty cloth beneath your feet, the taste of iron in your mouth. You’re still dressed in your pyjamas and soaked in sweat, the smell and the anxious feeling in your gut making you gag. You can make out a figure in your eye line, fuzzily though it may be and you have to shut your eyes again, blinking for a moment to adjust your vision. It’s the man from last night, he’s lost the jacket, replaced it with a crisp white shirt and dress pants, and, for a moment, you wish that you could change too.

His eyes gleam in the sun like molten pools. “How are you feeling?” he asks, congenially.

“F-fine,” Your body has gone into overdrive, heart pumping against your rib-cage and you shiver as he comes closer to you, eyes boring into your own.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” he sounds genuinely sincere and it jolts you for a minute. He bends down, crouching so close to you that you can inhale the scent of his cologne.

‘ _Oh, so **that’s** why I can smell coffee.’_ There’s a sweet-smelling hint of pine and woody musk mixed in too. It’s intoxicating.

“Why?” You’re not sure if you mean why is he doing this or why is he sorry but he gives you a small smile, his mouth ticking up and his eyes crinkling.

“Because… because,” he takes a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders, “I am.” He says it like it’s the only answer he can give but he turns his face away, not daring to meet your eyes.

“Yes, but why?” You continue, pressing on with your interrogation and a flicker of some unintelligible emotion flashes across his face, “Why kidnap me? What do you want with me? W- where’s Gwilym?”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping. “He’s safe if that’s what you’re asking, he’s in the next room.” He sounds almost sheepish.

“I-  _oh, okay.”_ The relief floods your body for a brief moment and you nod your head. “What’s your name?” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop yourself and you can see him working the answer through his mind.

“I-” His eyes dart around the room for a few moments, as though checking for something, “Joe.”

You test the name out of your tongue a few times and nod to yourself. “You don’t look like a Joe.”

He laughs for a moment, his face lightening a little and you smile, “Ahh.” Is all he can say, “I promise you that that’s my actual name, not a code name.”

“Of course,” you say the undercurrent of distrust heavy in your words. “Can I… Can I see Gwil?” You don’t trust this man with your life but you do think that with enough pleading he’ll give into your demands.

He scratches the back of his neck for a moment, mulling your words over. “I shouldn’t really. The bosses orders.” he sees your pouty expression and amends, “but they’re not currently here so it’s fine.”

He unties your bonds, the ropes coming undone with two tugs and you can hear him huffing under his breath about loose ropes. You massage your skin from where the ropes have bitten in, loosely tied the may have been they still irritated you. You’re quite sure that the amount of jostling you’ve done has made them darken your skin with friction burns. You stand up, your legs wobbling, unused to having to stand after having spent most your day in a tiny chair. You hear your vertebrae click and pop and moan under your breath at the sensation.

Joe opens the door for you and you know that it would be so easy for you to flee away from him but you don’t. You need to see Gwilym more than anything else.

“Why do you need me?” you say, turning to face him. He’s illuminated by the sun, looking like some kind of god and he sighs, almost regretfully.

“You’re our bargaining chip.” It’s said in such a conversational tone that you have to take a moment to process it.

“Bargaining…” You repeat, dragging out each syllable, trying to connect the dots, “Whatever for? What are you bargaining with him for?”

“Drugs,” He says, walking ahead of you with a shrug of his shoulders. You nearly burst out laughing, “We’re mobsters.” You can almost hear the unspoken ‘duh,’ that ends the sentence.

“Fuck off.” You say, disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m serious,” Joe calls over his shoulder, leading you down a corridor. It’s surprisingly warm, the bay windows are large and you take a moment to admire the skyline, the late evening sunset like a deep purple bruise against the dark blue of the sky, shading to a warm apricot and pale pinks a little further away. It’s beautiful.

“Are you in the same gang?” You say, tearing yourself away from the view to run to where he is standing.

His arms are crossed over his chest and he gives you a little exasperated shake of his head.

“What a sil- Nah, Separate. D’you think I’d’ve kidnapped you if we were in the same gang? We have rules for that shit.”

“Look arsehole, just take me to my boyfriend, I don’t have time to listen to your cheerful answers like you’re a fucking tour guide.”

Joe, to his credit, says nothing merely raising an eyebrow and giving you a look that you’re sure if you weren’t so angry at everything that has just occurred, could very easily kill you.

“He’s in here.” He says and you swear that Hell could freeze over and he’d still be the iciest thing in the room.

You nod demurely, averting your gaze from his and slip inside. The room is dark for the most part, and you shiver for a moment, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Gwilym is tied up, that much is clear. His face is illuminated by a bright florescent light bulb above his head and he looks  _awful_.

His jacket is on the floor, his wrists and legs are bound to the back of the chair and the chair legs respectively and his shirt is open, cut with either a knife or scissors. There are lacerations on his chest, either bleeding or just about scabbed over. They’re black, jagged, and the skin around them is a reddish-pink. His neck is covered in blood from where the red liquid has dripped down from the cuts upon his face, across his cheekbones. His lip has split, bruised as though someone has punched him full force with a knuckleduster or a ring and there’s another bruise under his left eye, the skin starting to take on the colour of a bruised peach. There is a gash upon his nose and you gasp, shooting Joe an accusatory look, your eyes narrowed.

He turns away, ashamed.

“Gwil, honey, It’s me.” You whisper, coming over to your boyfriend and crouching down to his face.

You can see the flash of terror on Gwilym’s face for a brief moment; see the choked off inhale in shock and the utter disbelief in his eyes. It takes a moment for him to respond, and he cannot meet your eyes, as though he knows he has done wrong.

“Cariad?” His voice cracks.

“Yes, love. It’s me. See?” You cradle his face in his hands, your palms are warm against his cold skin and he gives you a tight smile, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You stroke the cuts on his cheekbones with your fingers, making him lean in to your touch and you give him a smile, “I’m alright.”

“If you’ve hurt her-“ He hisses, looking directly at Joe who has been taking this in from a little corner of the room unwilling to intrude, “I’ll murder you. I will grind your bones to dust and make you drink them. If you think you’ll be able to hold me in these ropes forever then you’ve got another thing coming.”

Joe chuckles for a moment, rich and dark and shakes his head, rubbing his temples. “A shame that you didn’t have any of that bravado last night; it might’ve done you some good.”

Gwilym blanches, “W-what?”

“Y’know, when you’re best friend was killed and you stupidly threw everything away. Then you made your girlfriend get kidnapped and now she’s here and, ooh, look you’re tied to a chair after having the shit beaten out of you.” He snorts, “What a fine job you’ve done, Gwilym. Anyone else would think you’d meant to do this.”

“Y-you were the ones that – that killed him.” Gwilym says, close to tears. “You shot him in cold blood.”

Joe tuts and shakes his head, walking forward and standing directly in Gwilym’s eye line. Both men do not acknowledge your presence and your eyes dart to each of them in turn, watching their every little move.

“Perhaps… perhaps we should’ve killed you instead. At least Ben was co-operative.” You can see that it hurts Joe to say that, his chest is heaving and his breathing is ragged.

“You loved him.” Gwilym whispers, finally understanding and Joe nods, not meeting either of your gazes.

“Then why do you need us?” you say.

Joe is silent for a few moments, the tears on his face glistening in the low light and you feel a pang of sympathy for him. His shoulders are hunched and he has to take a deep breath to stop himself from crying.

“They – they asked me to kidnap you so we could get info on Gwilym. I – I just… this was supposed to be our last job, mine and Ben’s. We’d agreed that we’d run away together after everything had blown over. Then it all went to shit and now – now I’m stuck here.” Joe’s sobbing now, unable to look at you and you feel the need to hug him.

Gwilym looks heartbroken, “I’m so sorry.” He whispers, desperately trying to tug as his restraints.

Joe tilts his head and gives him a small smile. “I loved him very much. I – I don’t want to do this anymore. I’ve seen enough death.” He swallows audibly and wipes his eyes on his shirt cuff, cufflinks glinting in the light.

“Then get us out of here.” You plead, and Gwilym nods in agreement.

“Get me out of this fucking chair first though. I can’t feel my wrists, or my legs. God, it’s like I’ve got a lead weight on me.” He huffs and Joe nods.

“Of course,” He says, giving your boyfriend a shaky smile and a nod, walking behind the chair and unknotting the rope. It’s a slow task with how well it is tied compared to your own and you can hear Joe swearing under his breath, gritting his teeth every time he encounters a particularly tight knot. Once the ropes fall to the floor Gwilym stands, his legs shaking like a newborn foal and he grabs one of your shoulders to steady himself.

“You okay?” Your voice is soft.

“I am now.” His voice is a little raspy, “I mean, everything hurts but I’m all the better for seeing you.”

“That’s so cheesy.” You say, grinning.

“True though,” Gwilym says, wriggling his eyebrows and you giggle.

“We – I’m sorry to break up the moment but we should go.” Joe’s voice is soft and he’s walked to the door. He looks small as though all the life has been drained out of him, his eyes glassy and you grab Gwilym’s hand, pulling him with you out of the door.

 

Joe’s apartment is not what you’d expected. It’s small yet cosy compared to your house and the first thing that greets you is a ginger cat, green eyes peering at you with interest. He purrs appreciatively when Joe bends down to pet him, whispering a few words in his ear and you smile as he picks up the cat and waves you two in. You both shiver, wet from the downpour that has started outside, dripping puddles onto the dark carpet.

Gwilym’s teeth are chattering and you huff out breaths of air into your hands in an attempt to warm them.

The cat purrs from his seat in Joe’s arms and gives out a welcoming meow as Joe says, “The showers down the hall. There are some old shirts and things in the chest of drawers so feel free to wear them. Would you like a drink?”

“Please.” You both whisper, as Joe sets the cat down and walking into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about Freddie. Just make sure you pet him, he likes pets.” Joe says, as the cat tilts his head at you two as if to say ‘please pet me.’

Gwilym does so, the clinking of mugs background noise to the one-sided conversation that he is having with Freddie and you sigh, “Where’s the shower?” you call out. Gwilym is far too engrossed in petting Freddie now, the ginger cat purring in pleasure, his eyes shut as he sits on your boyfriend’s lap.

Joe pokes his head out of the kitchen, “Just down the hall, first door on the left, and my room’s next to it.”

You nod and walk out of the living room, leaving the men to their respective tasks, shaking your dripping hair out of your eyes as you do. The room is small enough, there is a rack of towels affixed to the wall, warm to the touch and you stroke one absentmindedly for a moment before stepping out of your shoes. The floor is heated and you wiggle your toes in delight, throwing your clothes into a pile into the cast iron bathtub on the opposite side of the wall.

You catch sight of yourself in the mirror, the light over head making the bags under your eyes stand out more than they normally would. Your eyes are bloodshot; your hair hangs limp around your face, and you can see the dirt on your cheeks from where they gagged you with a dirty cloth. There’s a smudge of a bruise beginning on your left temple as though someone clocked you when they were moving you from one place to another and you shiver, turning away.

You drag a bathmat over to the shower and turn the dials, waiting for the water to heat up. The mirror slowly steams over with condensation, obscuring your reflection, water droplets running down the glass and you hum appreciatively as you open the glass door and step into the shower.

The water is hot and you get to work, briskly shampooing your hair with shampoo that smells like synthetic lemons. You scrub the dirt off of your face with a wash cloth, rinsing your hair out as you do before scrubbing your body with a body wash that vaguely smells of mint.

It’s a quick shower but you can feel the tension leaving your body as you inhale the smell of mint, breathing easier and you smile as you turn off the shower, stepping out onto the fluffy bathmat and wrapping a towel around yourself.

Drops of water slide down your back, and you squeeze your hair out, patting it with another towel before grabbing your clothes, pulling on your panties, and opening the door, slipping into Joe’s room.

It’s warm in here too, a blast of hot air greets you as you push the door open and walk over to the bed after drawing the curtains. It’s large and soft; the duvet cover is white and pristine, silky to the touch, and smelling faintly of lavender. The walls are painted a light blue, a bookshelf adorning the wall nearest to the window, crammed with various works and a small T.V. takes up the room underneath the shelf. That too has a shelf that is loaded with various DVD’s. Next to that is a small record player, dusty and unused, piles of vinyl’s hidden underneath. The chest of drawers and wardrobes are against the wall nearest the door, dark varnished wood that looks black in the light.

The towel around you is damp and you nose through the chest of drawers, searching for a top that looks like it’ll fit you well enough. Finally you pull out a slate grey shirt, long and unbuttoned and slip it on, towelling your hair dry.

Someone is whistling in the hallway and the sound of the bathroom door closing and a light being switched on is what greets you as you slip out of the room again.

‘ _Must be Gwil,_ ’ you think, making your way back into the living room.

The sound of water running makes you turn for a minute and nod, your assumptions correct as you hear your boyfriend hum in delight.

“Are you alright now?” Joe says. Concern is evident in his eyes as you flop down on the sofa. He hands you a mug of tea in a colourful striped mug and you nod.

“I am, thank you.”

He is wearing a jacket now, mustard yellow in colour with some sweatpants and a white t-shirt and he is curled up on the sofa, legs crossed over one another, petting Freddie. The cat is dozing happily in his master’s arms as Joe lightly tickles his ears. Joe takes a sip of his drink and gives you a smile.

“I’m sorry about all of this.” He whispers, his voice cracking slightly, “I never meant – I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“It’s not your fault. You were just doing your job. I mean, yeah, I could’ve done without the kidnapping and the lying but that’s Gwilym’s fault, really. If he’d just told me-“

“I don’t think he could bring himself to.” Joe’s voice is quiet, his eyes downcast and you can see that he is petting Freddie a little faster now, mind clearly at work. “It’s not something you can do easily, to be honest.”

“Do any of your family know?” You ask and he looks at you for a moment, searching your face.

“No. Ben knew but, well, he would. The Mafia changes you. I think – I think it changed the both of us. You never know who to trust so to find him was an achievement in a way. He was wonderful. We had to keep it under wraps through.” He sniffles, turning his face away. His voice is thick with remembrance and tears and you place a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I don’t think I could’ve found the strength to try and leave if it wasn’t for him. He was very opinionated.”

“I met him once.” You whisper.

Joe’s face brightens a little and he tilts his head in askance,“How-?”

“Gwil had a poker night with some of  _them_. Ben didn’t really play but we chatted for a bit. He mentioned that he was in a relationship. I didn’t really think he meant with you. He just said ‘a guy’ and I, well, I was just like ‘Cool, is he as annoying as Gwil though?’ and he looked me dead on in the eye and said ‘he tells me not to do stupid shit and I do it anyway to piss him off.’”

Joe laughs, “He threw himself into some glass doors once just to make sure I’d get away from a job that went wrong. Bit of an overreaction to be honest but the sentiment was good. That’s how we met. Because of him doing stupid shit and me having to clean it up.”

“I thought you said you two were in different gangs?”

“Yeah, but I helped him out a couple of times, off the grid.” Freddie is purring and Joe looks down again his eyes misted over with pain. “He was gonna move in with me and this little fluff ball before - before what happened yesterday.”

“Oh my – I’m so sorry.”

He gives a shrug, a small sad smile graces his lips and he grabs his cup, holding it until his knuckles turn white. “I just – at least he’s in a better place now.”

“Do – do Ben’s parents know?”

Joe takes a sip of his drink before answering, you can hear Gwilym moving about in the hallway, the door of Joe’s room creaking open and closed. “I told them over the phone after – after Gwilym was brought back to our – I mean, the gang’s place.” It strikes you how casually he has said this last bit compared to everything else. He sees your questioning look and mutters, “His parents didn’t approve. He was one of the few who told his family what he did. A bit reckless but that was him all over.”

“You loved him very much. I could tell he loved you very much too, that much was clear.” You say.

He nods, putting a hand over his face to wipe away the tears and taking a moment to breathe. The rain is hammering on the window and Freddie purrs in his sleep, soft yelps as he stretches and Joe just pets him again, taking the occasional swig from his cup.

Gwilym comes in after a few moments of quiet. His shirt is unbuttoned and he is running a towel through his hair. He stands in the entryway for a moment, almost unsure to come in as though he is intruding and Joe waves him in.

“Better now?” Joe asks again, voice far too cheery and Gwilym nods. The swelling on his face has gone down, the cuts seem to be scabbed over, and the bruising seems a little better. “There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen if you need it.”

“Thank you.” Your boyfriend says, moving to the kitchen. You can hear him padding round, the scrape of a chair as he sits down and the occasional hiss as he applies cream and other things to his cuts.

“You should really see a doctor.” Joe says, turning his head to face the kitchen.

“Bit risky wouldn’t you say?” Gwilym says, coming out of the room once again.

Joe hands him a mug off of the side table and nods in acquiescence. “What are you going to do now that you’re, well, now that you’re on the run, I s’pose?”

“We’ll need to hide. We’ll have to start over.” He says more to Joe than to you and you can feel the slow burn of rage burn inside you.

_‘We wouldn’t have to start over if you’d just told me,’_  you think, wanting to punch Gwilym for being so self-serving.

“Ahh, I see.”

“What will you do?” you ask Joe, your eyebrow raised.

“I – I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.” His voice is subdued and he hunches in on himself, unwilling to meet your gaze.

“You could come with us.” Gwilym says, beaming, “I mean, I have no idea where we’re gonna go but I have more than enough money to get the three of us and Freddie there.”

“Why? Why would you want me to come?”

“Because – because,” Gwilym begins, crouching down to meet Joe’s eyes, “They fucked both of us over. It was so silly and stupid and I – I thought I was doing the right thing by not telling people. I hurt you, I hurt Ben. I – I hurt…” He looks at you, his eyes full of tears and your heart breaks. “I hurt the person I love most in the world and I – I am so  _sorry_. You lost Ben through my incompetence and I can’t apologise enough. I am so sorry. It should’ve been me that – that… he took that bullet for  _me_.”

“He was always reckless.” Joe huffs. The bitterness in his voice is almost painful to listen to and you wince. “I knew it’d get him killed.”

“He really did love you.” Gwilym murmurs.

“People keep saying that, oddly enough.” Joe says, casting a glance in your direction. “I don’t really have a choice in the matter. Once they find out what I’ve done they’ll hunt me down regardless.”

“Alright,” Gwilym says, drawing himself up to his full height again, “It’s settled then.”

* * *

The weather is warm. It’s always warm here even in the winter time. The sun is bright and you smile appreciatively, a hand on your stomach feeling the growing bump beneath. Your body is warm and the two men beside you moan in their sleep. The balcony doors are wide open allowing the sun to pool into the room giving everything a heavenly glow. It is three months after your run in with the Mafia and you’re still trying to adjust to things here.

Joe has his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your back and Gwilym is splayed out next to him, left leg nearly falling off the bed. Freddie is snoozing on the end of the bed and you giggle as the cat meows in his sleep.

The sheets are soft and cosy, a pale blue and you moan, snuggling further into them as the breeze caresses your cheek. The air smells of the sweet scent of freshly cut grass, the bird’s songs a symphony in the sky, and you raise your head giving Freddie a greeting as the cat stirs awake, looking around the room with interest, before jumping off the bed and padding outside.

“Hmm,” A husky voice in your ear says, “Good morning.”

You turn to face Joe and smile sweetly as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, “Good morning to you too.”

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, pulling you closer to him and settling his face into the crook of your shoulder, kissing your neck. You can feel his skin on your own, the faint smell of his cologne and you nod.

“Very,” you say, elongating the word, “I was exhausted.”

He you gives a cheeky grin, wiggling his eyebrows in mischief and you laugh. “I know you were.”

“Mmm. You and Gwil are very persuasive when you need to be.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“You love us.” He whispers, as you turn to face him. The duvet rustles as you do, wrapping around your legs like a cocoon.

“Very true, even if Gwil is as exasperating as can be. You’re not much better yourself.”

Joe huffs out a breath, looking indignant and you smirk. “I’m teasing, sweetheart.” You say, shaking your head at him fondly, raising a hand to his cheek and stroking it.

“You call that teasing?” he says pouting and you slap his shoulder.

“Yes. Why? What would you call it?”

“Being rude,” Joe says, before littering your skin with soft kisses, attacking your neck again and leaving a hickey by your collarbone, “You should be punished for it.” His voice is low, reverberating on your skin and you can feel the beginnings of arousal stirring, a small syrupy feeling in your abdomen.

You shake your head, “You’re very good at that, I hear.”

“I am,” Joe says, grinning lazily, brows eyes twinkling, “Would you like to test it out?”

“What’s all this?” Gwilym says, making the two of you jump for a moment. His voice is amused and you laugh at the very fetching bed-head that he is sporting.

“We’re having a discussion.” Joe says, trying to stifle his laughter, a hand over his mouth not daring to look at you for fear that he’ll break into laughter too.

“What about?” Gwilym runs a hand through his hair trying to tame the strands that keep falling into his eyes, growling in frustration every time they flop back down.

“Not much.” You say quietly, and you see the hurt in his eyes. You’ve been like this with him ever since you moved to this tiny French village and he cannot fathom why.

“Ahh,” Is all he says struck dumb for a moment, and Joe gives him a little smile.

“How’re you?” He asks, eyes twinkling.

Gwilym rubs at his eyes and groans, stretching, “Tired,” he yawns out.

“I - well, we can do something that’ll help you be more awake.” Joe says in jest and Gwilym chuckles.

“Persistent, aren’t you? I’d have thought last night would’ve tired you out.”

Joe hums. “It’s good to be persistent sometimes. It gets you what you want a lot quicker.”

You laugh and Gwilym shakes his head, “True.” Gwilym says, desperately trying to ignore the heat in Joe’s eyes.

You sigh, taking the opportunity to press a kiss to Joe’s shoulder. “Someone’s needy.” He jokes and you huff a little.

“So are you.” You mutter and Gwilym grins, leaning over to press a hot kiss upon Joe’s lips.

Joe smiles and kisses him back, their tongues tangling together. Gwilym is raking his hands through Joe’s hair and you can hear the redhead purring low in his chest like a cat. Gwilym moves down, kissing Joe’s jaw line before leaving bruising kisses upon his neck making Joe moan in want. Gwilym sucks at the base of his neck, near the hollow of his throat and he pulls away, gasping for breath. There is a coin sized hickey on Joe’s pale skin and a red flush upon his cheeks. His hair is mussed and he looks delicious.

Gwilym admires his handiwork for a moment before Joe pulls the covers back and drags him back down, kissing Gwilym again. They’re softer kisses this time, little pecks upon Gwilym’s skin and you can see the brown-haired man shiver in delight, unable to hold back his moans. His eyes are blown, pupils dilated, and he is rutting against Joe’s thigh, you can see him being utterly shameless, fingers digging into his back.

“Fuuuuck,” Gwilym hisses, his breath caught in his throat. He has to take a moment to calm a little, eyes darting over to you and heaving out a soft plea for you to join them.

“ _Please.”_ Joe whispers too before pulling you over a little more to where Joe has shifted himself on top of Gwilym.

Gwilym’s cock is hard against Joe’s thigh, leaking pre-cum. The liquid is a pearly shade compared to the redness of the head and you lick your lips unconsciously. The Welshman is rocking against Joe’s thigh, leaving a smear against his freckled skin and his moans are positively filthy, deep and guttural speaking of some deep seated lust for the American man.

“Hey, Gwil, look at me. You need to calm down.” Joe says his voice soft. “You’re gonna blow your load before we’ve even really started and I think  _someone_ ,” He looks at you from under his eyelashes and you flush, “would like to join in before that happens, sweetheart.”

Gwilym looks up and nods at you both. He is panting heavily, his chest heaving and he has to lick his lips to moisten them before he speaks. Joe runs a hand through Gwilym’s hair, carefully moving a stray strand out of his eyes and strokes his cheek.

“I- I’m sorry. It - it just felt so  _good_.” Gwilym whines. His eyes are wide and he takes in your face, the unspoken apology heavy in his eyes. His lips are spit slick, a deep red, pouty, and you want to kiss that sweet look off of his face and make him  _beg_.

“I know it did, baby.” Joe consoles, “but it’s not fair that you get all the pleasure and we don’t, is it?”

“I know, Daddy, I’m sorry.” Gwilym sounds like a child and he looks away in shame. The blush on his cheeks deepens becoming a vivid red instead of the fuchsia it was before and you give him a lopsided smile, placing a hand on his thigh and stroking the sensitive skin.

His cock twitches a little at that and Gwilym whines, his eyes pleading at you to do  _something_.

_“_ Shush, baby. It’s okay. I’ll make you feel good.” You whisper and Gwilym gives you a soft smile, turning to Joe and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Please.” He sobs out as you bend down and take his cock into your mouth suddenly. He cries out, jumping off the bed a little and Joe has to hold him down, his arms tight around Gwilym’s elbows. The skin goes white Joe is holding him that hard and Gwilym bucks up into the warmth of your mouth, a cracked moan leaving his lips.

“Oh my g-god,” He whispers and Joe pulls him in for another bruising kiss, insistent and longing. Their teeth clack together and Joe bites down on Gwilym’s lip until the tender skin bleeds, crimson liquid dribbling down.

“Such a good boy,” Joe says as he breaks away.

“D - Daddy, please. Fuck me.” Gwilym whines as your tongue traces the veins of his cock, bucking insistently against you once more. You swirl your tongue around the head making him gasp. His cock is blood-warm, and you trace the line of his balls with the finger tips of your left hand, jacking him off with your right.

Joe is kissing a line from Gwilym’s pectoral muscles downwards, giving the skin tickling kisses and taking one of Gwilym’s nipples into his mouth until the bud becomes hard and red.

Gwilym whines again, digging a hand into his sides so as not to drag you off his cock. You’re taking him so well. There is spit running down your chin and your cheeks are flushed.

You can feel him tense, a little moan caught in his throat and you know that he’s close, his legs are twitching and his toes are curled so hard that they’re white.

You take the opportunity to release his member from your mouth with a soft pop. His dick is flushed with blood and Gwilym flops back down into the pillows, heaving out a breath.

“Thank you.” He says, giving you a little smile. He looks out of it with pleasure and Joe smirks.

“Aren’t you going to return the favour?” He enquires and Gwilym looks sufficiently chagrined.

“Oh.” His voice is small, “Would you like me to?”

You nod. You’re unable to form words and you can feel the arousal wetting your thighs, the salty scent of sex is thick in the air. The wind is blowing through the room once more and Freddie is purring away on the wooden balcony floor, deep in a little nap.

Gwilym smiles and nods happily, obedience thick in his actions. He slides down to the apex of your thighs, spreading your legs apart and kissing the sensitive skin there. You gasp as his tongue snakes out, licking a strip down your cunt. Little noises of pleasure leave your lips and Joe kisses you on the mouth, sloppy and slow. Gwilym is moaning as he eats you out, eyelashes fluttering in pleasure. He’s kissing your cunt, occasionally giving a long lick that makes your cunt flutter before sucking and nibbling at your clit.

Your toes curl slightly, and you arch as a particularly hard suck to your clit makes you gasp into Joe’s mouth, your eyes wide. Joe is smiling against your lips, carding a hand through Gwilym’s hair as he pulls away briefly.

“Sit on my face.” Gwilym says, giving you a devilish smile.

You’re silent for a moment and your brain goes into overdrive. Gwilym has flushed again, looking at you with an intense gaze that makes your cheeks burn and the buzz in your abdomen turn into such a heat it’s almost like having a forest fire in your belly.

You nod in ascent, wetting your lips to speak. Your voice is husky with lust and Gwilym’s eyes light up when you say, “Yes, God, yes.”

Joe moves a little further away from you both, watching intently as Gwilym lies back once more and you place yourself above him, gently lowering yourself onto his face. Gwilym is cupping your back with his hands lightly tracing patterns with his fingers, making you tremor.

His mouth is hot against your cunt and you squeal as he impales you with his tongue. You’re moaning, rocking against him, his stubble tickling your skin and you judder at the sensation. His nose is rubbing against your clit and he’s lapping hungrily at the juices that trickle down your thighs, leaving cooling trails of spit upon your skin. It’s messy and Gwilym taps your inner thigh.

You lift yourself off shakily and he exhales, huffing out a breath. You sit back down letting the coolness of the mattress soothe the heat that you’re feeling legs are shaking and your heart is hammering against your chest.

Gwilym’s mouth is plump and shiny and he makes a shoe of licking his lips, slowly tracing his tongue upon his Cupid’s bow, relishing the taste of you, before leaning over and giving you a slow, sensual kiss. His tongue twines with your own and he moans, pulling you into it a little more.

Joe is watching with interest, his breathing is quick and his cock is hard, almost painfully erect. He is mouthing a plea and his brown eyes are dark.

Gwilym breaks away from you, looks at him and smiles gleefully.

“Having a bit of trouble there, are we?” His voice is light and Joe glares at him.

“Yes.” He hisses. “Do something about it.”

Gwilym chuckles, “Alright.”

He is deliberately slow in crawling to where Joe is situated. Joe moans high pitched and desperate for relief. He is rubbing himself against the mattress to relieve the ache he is feeling, leaving a trail of pre cum on the blue mattress cover and Joe is huffing out a breath, his cheeks red.

“Gwil,  _please_ ,” His domineering facade is broken and Gwilym nods.

“It’s alright, Cariad, I’m coming.” He soothes and Joe nods, trembling with want.

Gwilym touches Joe’s shoulder before he slides down again and kisses Joe’s cock. You can hear the soft sucking sounds as Gwilym envelopes Joe’s cock into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking languidly at the velvet flesh.

Joe moans out brokenly and bucks against his mouth, begging him to go faster. Joe pulls at Gwilym’s hair demandingly, the brown strands catching the sun’s rays, gilding them with gold, and Gwilym moans around Joe’s cock in pain. Joe whines high, the rhythm of his hips fast and you know that he wants to orgasm quickly.

“God, let me  _come_.” Joe pleads. His back is arched and his toes are curled. His face is scrunched up and his eyes are shut in pleasure. You can tell that his orgasm is approaching because he is trying to control his breathing with calm, measured pants.

Gwilym also knows this and pulls off of his cock, the sound this action makes is obscene.

The redhead’s eyes snap open and he scowls,“W- why?” He looks genuinely upset and Gwilym gives him a smirk.

“We’re not done yet.” He says. Joe and you nod.

Gwilym grabs you and you shriek as he places you in the middle of the bed once more, covering your body with kisses and sucking at your nipples leaving them hard and flushed with blood. He kisses your breast, making you squirm beneath him before nibbling at the soft skin and tracing a path down your stomach with sweet butterfly kisses.

Joe turns his attention to the chest of drawers next the bed, digging around for a moment, bringing out a small bottle of lube. The next thing you know Gwilym flinches. Joe is prepping his hole, swirling his fingers upon his skin, around the tight ring of muscle and Gwilym swallows audibly.

“Good boy.” Joe whispers kissing a trail down his backbone, “Just relax, that’s it.”

Gwilym nods trying to control his breathing, soft breaths issuing from his lips and he squirms slightly when Joe kisses him on the shoulder, hands reaching to stroke his face.

Gwilym relaxes into Joe’s touch and Joe shifts to ease himself into Gwilym’s arse. Gwilym hisses, long and sharp, and he buckles for a moment the sensations too much as Joe finally bottoms out.

His arms straighten at the last minute so that he doesn’t fall flat on his face. Gwilym is still on top of you, his cock is twitching on your thigh and you gasp against his lips as, in one fluid movement, he slides into your soaked core. The feeling of being filled is bliss and you moan, sinking further down on to his length.

Joe moves and Gwilym moans, the rhythm is a hard and punishing one. You can hear the slap of skin on skin and Joe’s muttered curses as Gwilym fucks himself on Joe’s cock, his hips undulating in a fast rhythm, slamming his cock into your aching cunt and thrusting back on Joe’s member. It’s utterly debauched.

You can feel the slick of your juices running down your thighs, smell the tang of sweat and sex in the air, and you groan, matching Gwilym’s rhythm. Your hair falls over your eyes with the force of both men’s thrusts and you have to focus on breathing for a few moments because everything is so over sensitised your body feels like it’s floating.

You’re pulling at Gwilym’s hair, biting at his neck hard enough to draw blood and he writhes above you, making Joe moan gutturally. Joe is thrusting into him so hard that the mattress springs are squeaking in protest. There is sweat on his brow and he is panting as though he has just run a marathon.

“Fuck.” Joe says, elongating the word. It sounds utterly filthy coming out of his mouth, drenched in sex.

Gwilym is thrusting so hard that he’s pushing you into the mattress, and he bites at your neck in retaliation as a particularly hard thrust sends him reeling. He doesn’t draw blood, thank God, but you know that it will bruise, turning the colour of rotten fruit tomorrow.

Your cunt is clenching around his cock hard. The feelings in your abdomen are excruciating, the pulse in your cunt is harsher now, the dull throb replaced by something blindingly hot and tight.

Joe chokes out a gasp and Gwilym whines out a “Please,” and you can tell that it will be over soon for all of you. Joe’s eyes are shut, Gwilym’s face is a picture of ecstasy, and you feel as though you’re on an unforgettable high.

There’s a moment where it feels calm like you’re in the eye of a hurricane. Your body is drenched in sweat, Gwilym is keening nonsense words, Joe is still thrusting though he is losing his momentum as everything becomes too much. His eyes are glazed with lust, and time seems to have slowed, allowing you to take everything in.

Joe comes first. He does so quietly, choking back a moan, his body leaning into the curve of Gwilym’s back as he pulls out, painting his load onto Gwilym’s skin. He is gasping for air like a drowning man and his chest is heaving. The aftershocks course through his body, causing him to shiver uncontrollably and he stays in the position that he is in for a few moments before flopping onto the mattress, exhausted.

Gwilym is next. He yells sharply, body twitching and his toes curling as he comes inside you. You can feel the hot rush, feel the warmth that seeps into your cunt and you moan, your own orgasm fast approaching as Gwilym thrusts again for a final time and you come, body jolting off the bed for a moment. Your cunt clenches around Gwilym’s cock and you both moan together, bodies tightening before you both collapse in a heap.

Gwilym pulls out of you, you can feel the warmth of his come running down your thighs and you grimace.

“Some morning,” You murmur, swiping a hair out of your face and the two men agree.

Joe leaves the room for a moment, the sound of padding footsteps and then the bathroom door opens, its high squeak echoing through the air and you grit your teeth. The sound of water running is the next thing you hear as you draw Gwilym to you, carding a hand through his hair. He lays his head upon your breasts and you smile at him, kissing his nose.

“You okay?” He whispers.

“Yes, I’m fine. Are you?”

Gwilym nods.

Joe appears again, holding up a wash cloth and carrying a small bowl of water, endeavouring to clean the both of you up before attending to himself.

“Are you two okay?” He asks, bending down to lick up the duvet cover from where it is lying crumpled on the floor before sitting on the bed and giving you both a smile. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asks Gwilym as you both move over so he can join you.

“No, no.” Gwilym assures, “I’m alright, I would’ve said. I-” He begins looking at you and you shush him, shaking your head.

“We’re alright, both me and the baby. I promise, love.”

Gwilym nods in a self-assured way, “Good.”

“I think we should sleep again.” Joe says quietly, yawning suddenly.

“Sounds like an excellent plan.” Gwilym agreed and you nod.

Freddie leaps up on the bed in agreement, purring contentedly and the three day you snuggle together, the sunlight warming your skin as the wind blows through the curtains.


End file.
